


After

by Eratoschild



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 12:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: Squall and Seifer avoided each other for a long time. There was just too much to confront. Too much hung between them. They maintained the barriers separating them for as long as they could.





	After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonamor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonamor/gifts).



> Written for anonamor, with the request of some post-canon Seifer/Squall.
> 
> While not *technically* my first FF8 posting, my actual first was pretty insubstantial.

Time compression chewed them up and spit them out. At different times and, almost on different ends of the world, in effect, if not actuality.

Soon came the pictures, the smiling snapshots, everyone supposedly making happy new memories. But how many of these would, too, fade in time? Would they slip away like their childhood, stolen little by little with each junction of their guardian forces?

Squall and Seifer avoided each other for a long time. There was just too much to confront. Too much hung between them. They maintained the barriers separating them for as long as they could. Squall tried to make it work with Rinoa. Seifer stuck with his old crew.

Eventually, Squall and Rinoa concluded that their efforts were in vain. Rinoa returned to Delling.

Eventually, Seifer grew restless without his sparring partner. There was only so much Raijin and Fujin could do, especially now that they had stared dating. 

Even with a few other SEEDs discovering newfound interest in the gunblade, they were nothing. No one could give him the fight that Squall could and he certainly didn’t have the patience to teach beginners.

So too did Squall grow restless without Seifer.

And still, they avoided each other. But Squall could only storm out of so many meetings. Seifer could throw only so many tantrums.

In the end, both had the same idea.

The night they both showed up in the training center came in the wake of an especially rough day. The t-rexaurs in the training center were well below their league but ech just wanted to take out his aggression and frustration on _something_.

Neither considered that he might find the other there. Neither would have thought that it might be like before.

But when Seifer barreled through the door only seconds after Squall, turning to mentally eviscerate whoever dared violate his assumed solitude. In that moment, something past passed between them.

They’d always been at odds, and they’d always understood each other. Now was no different. No words were needed to know that they would fight no monsters tonight. As if pre-arranged, they entered one of the combat training rooms and stretched.

When they were ready, they fought without mercy, unleashing every iota of rage, pain and frustration that they felt toward the other until finally, bruised and battered, and gasping for breath, each found himself with the tip of the other’s blade at his throat.

“Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Squall demanded, glowering.

“Are you?”

“Whatever,” Squall retorted.

Still neither lowered his blade.

Finally, Seifer snorted. “Come on. You think you’re some big shot just because they made you Commander.”

“Whatever. I never asked for it,” Squall grumbled darkly.

“For the record, I’m not yielding but this is getting boring,” Seifer said, lowering his blade.

Squall pressed the tip of his until he could _just_ see a dot of red appear. “I win,” he stated quietly, finally lowering his own.

“I said I wasn’t yielding!”

Squall shrugged. “You should have thought of that before you put your blade down,” he replied, turning to leave.

“Fuck!” Seifer yelled, fingers coming to his throat, then seemed to forget the injury just as quickly when he saw there was barely a smeared speck on his skin

Squall turned back and gave him a long, disdainful look without another word. As he moved again to leave, Seifer was on him in a flash and he was thrown against the wall, glaring up at a scarred face mirroring his own, and sky blue eyes, as hardened as his own.

“What?” he hissed.

“Just tell me we’re not over,” Seifer demanded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”


End file.
